


Markarth's Mage

by Akuoni



Series: Clandestine Activities of a Harlequin [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akuoni/pseuds/Akuoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having Sex for the sake of Having Sex<br/>(Anonymous)<br/>Exactly that with anyone - no relationship necessary, no frustrated feelings or hurt/comfort. Two people just having sex because why not?<br/>No squicks. Any pairing combos allowed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"What? Here?" The mage stared in shock at the cheerful man with bright red garb faded from time. The man in red nodded enthusiastically, not particularly bothered at the fact he was looking up at the stranger and that it was quite improper. But who was he to judge when he wore such things that fit his figure quite well.

"Oh but of course not! Not unless you prefer such things," he tittered, a gloved hand hiding his coy smile full of even white teeth. The Mage found himself tilting his head thoughtfully as he stared down at the imperial with vivid red hair and a cheerful countenance, "When he feels so, the Fool of Hearts can be quite ... discrete!"

"Fine. Follow me then Jester," the mage turned on his heel, moving to his quarters. The one named Cicero followed after with a smile as he was taken to the Mage's quarters. He dismissed his compatriots and turned to the ever-smiling jester, sitting on the bed and quirking a brow before beckoning him closer, "Show me why I should indulge you in such matters."

"Oh but of course," he giggled, kneeling before the mage and lifting the robes to reach hidden trousers. Gloved fingers were deft as they untied laces and soon he had what he wanted all laid out pretty as a picture. He grinned up at the mage and took hold gently, stroking and testing to see what was sensitive and what wasn't, "Just lie back and let Cicero do the work, hm?"

He didn't, but he put his hands just slightly behind himself and leaned back on them, watching as the imperial licked the head to taste. He smirked at the flinch and slight nose wrinkle of bewilderment, the taste bitter to the Jester's tongue. It didn't last long though. The Jester pressing his lips to the tip and sliding his head down until the mage had to tilt his head back and take a deep shuddering sigh of pleasure. A slight suction. The press and swipe of an experienced tongue. And still further the Jester performed, head bobbing and the gentle moaning sending sparks up his spine.

He groaned and grasped the Jester's silken red hair, hauling him up so that he could see full lips darkened from such activities and the flush of pleasure that such an act had given the sallow-skinned creature. The Jester's lips were still parted, but not for long as he grinned up at his partner for this eveniing. The mage sighed and released his hold, leaning back further to stare down his nose at the shorter male. Cicero was mildly impressed that someone could stare down at the same time they were staring up and it took considerable effort not to burst out in hysterical laughter. But it was worth it to hear the words he was waiting for.

"You have made your point."


	2. Chapter 2

"Remove your boots and get on the bed Jester," the fool obeyed, nearly falling over in his haste to get gold-embellished black boots off and giggling in amusement as he crawled to the middle and sat crosslegged with his hands on his ankles. He watched as the mage began to disrobe. First the dark gloves, each finger loosened individually before the whole thing removed and the process is repeated.

Then comes the hooded robe, grasped at the waist and hauled over his head in one elegant motion to pool on the ground as though it were mere burlap. Cicero watches with a smile as the man leans against the table and begins to deliberately unlace the first shoe, fingers deft and unhurried as he loosens each loop until he's ready to remove it with a swift motion that is repeated with the other. He is left in pants and stocking feet as he advances on the bed and the Jester on top.

"YOu will be wearing your motley raiment Jester," the mage smirked, unlacing his pants with one hand as he placed the other on the Imperial's clothed chest and shoved him so that he was laying on his back. The smile turns to nervous laughter, as the Mage grasps the ties on his pants and unlaces it as well, "We will be playing by my rules. If you don't, then it will result in unpleasantness."

"Oh of course! Cicero understands completely!" the Jester giggled more naturally as his pants were drawn down to his knees. There was the sound of something being uncorked and he looked up at the smell of garlic oil, lavender, and juniper released the pungent odor. His lips twitched, but a glare from the Mage had him biting his lip. It was actually quite amusing that a fortify stamina/health regeneration potion was chosen, but he wasn't about to complain. He watched the Mage frown thoughtfully before dismissing whatever thought had struck his fancy, "Is Cicero to assume he will be the one to lie back and think of Cyrodiil?"

"Don't tempt me to put that mouth of yours to better use," the mage shot back as a cold finger stroked his backside. The Jester jumped, startled, but calmed in time to feel the sudden pressure of penetration. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as he allowed himself to relax, breath shallow as the slender digit worked itself in. He groaned at the feeling of it pressing. Searching. And when it found its mark, he sucked in a sharp breath of air, "Good boy."

"Does that mean Cicero gets a treat? Ouch!" he asked innocently, wincing as he felt a second finger probing just a moment too soon. Apparently this mage didn't appreciate a cheeky response. He pouted and looked away, put out at such a reaction to an innocent question, "Sorry."

"Your treat is getting to stay and continue," the words are growled into his ear and he shivers. The thought crosses his mind and he can't help giggling. Approaching the pacing mage for some relaxation had been a stroke of brilliance.


	3. Chapter 3

"Of course, of course, Cicero understands," he chuckled before groaning and arching as he's stretched. Really. It had been too long. A few months at least. What with all the fuss in Cyrodiil and the distress at Falkreath, he had had little time to play with others. Brothers and Sisters rarely made such sanguine company, "Cicero does so hope he meets your... high expectations~"

"Are you ever silent fool?" the mage growled lowly and the fool giggled in glee. Oh how he liked to tease and mock. Ever-eager. Never silent. He couldn't help his quiet whine when those thin fingers were removed. But he didn't have long to worry that perhaps he had pushed too far before a sudden discomfort shot through him. Had his gloves been off, the mage would have had very visible lines scored into his back from the frantic grasping of the jester below him, "Oh yes... One thing I enjoy about the races of man. They are... Very tight."

"Easy to be tight when not properly prepared," the Jester wheezed somewhat plaintively, tense and shaking and very thankful the Mage was holding still as he began to adjust. There was a low chuckle from the Mage above him and he pouted as he realised that he was the butt end of that particular joke, "That's not very funny..."

"My apologies Jester," the mage's voice held only amusement and he pouted even more. Though the pouting was quickly ended when the mage began to move, yellow eyes widening with awe and pleasure as his arms were pinned above his head by unseen hands. The Mage smirked and used one hand to grasp around the Jester's throat and squeeze it just enough to make breathing difficult. Watching the flush compete with the Jester's red hair, he chuckled in amusement, "I like to see a fool left speechless at my hand."

There were no complaints forthcoming from the jester writhing beneath him. And judging from the way his body was reacting, clenching around his cock like a vice and the jester's own cock hard and already leaking from just a bit of foreplay, the Mage was sure the Jester had none to speak of. But it wouldn't hurt to be thorough. His free hand came down between them and oh how the Jester's voice rose in pleasure..

If it weren't for that hand at his throat, the Mage was sure the guards would come running at the Jester's hoarse cries. And what a Sight that would be to see.

He thrust into the yielding body beneath him, hissing like an angry Khajiit as the jester cried out breathlessly. His hands tightened the closer he came until he felt the fragile bones and cartilage begin to give way beneath his squeezing fingers and the gloved hands of the jester pulled frantically at his wrists.

He came to a frantic convulsing of the body beneath him, letting go just in time as the jester took great gulps of air with a raspy cough. 

Already brilliant bruises formed around the jester's throat in a livid necklace as he grinned up at the mage before him. He licked his lips and glanced down meaningfully. Ondolemar raised a brow before looking down himself. He couldn't help but laugh as he realised the mad little fool had orgasmed as well.

"Perhaps there will be an encore the next time you are in Markarth," he chuckled. The jester opened his mouth to reply but only a weak croak escaped his throat; Much to his chagrin. The Mage laughed in amusement even as he placed a hand on the fool's throat to heal the injury he had caused, "it seems I have found a way to render you silent. For the moment at least."

They dressed and the jester did his best to clean the mess from his tunic as they went their separate ways. He complained of clumsiness in eating his favorite treat to his friend to a rolling of eyes as they left the keep. And if he walked with a limp, well... No one said a word to him of such a thing.


End file.
